


Hail Mary Pass

by thekardemomme



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe, American Football, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 18:05:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15646086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekardemomme/pseuds/thekardemomme
Summary: hail mary pass:a hail mary pass, also known as a shot play, is a very long forward pass in american football, made in desperation, with only a small chance of success and time running out on the clock.the term hail mary pass has become generalized to refer to any last-ditch effort with little chance of success. sleeping with isak valtersen until time starts running out is what causes even to realize just how vital these passes can be.





	1. artwork

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoveThem2121](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveThem2121/gifts).



> this was written for the skam reverse big bang, so here's a big shout out to my girl [julia](http://transjonas.tumblr.com/) for organizing it!! as difficult as writing this was, i was very happy to participate, and look forward to reading all of the submissions.
> 
> my next shout out goes to [lisa](http://mu-zi-light.tumblr.com/) for the incredible art that inspired this fic, which i've inserted below but can also be found [here](http://mu-zi-light.tumblr.com/post/176866944172/artwork-mu-zi-light) on tumblr. thank you so much for this amazing art, and i hope my fic does it justice. 
> 
> third, my bitch [kenzie](http://brooklynbabybucky.tumblr.com/) for sticking with me through all the struggle of writing this fucking fic. i couldn't have done it without you bb.
> 
> fourth, my wife [meggplant](http://bizexualrosadiaz.tumblr.com/) for sticking with me and encouraging me, but also for betaing this absolute mess and making it somewhat comprehensible. i owe you my life.
> 
> finally, i hope all of you enjoy this fic. i worked really hard on it, and i hope it's as good as i aimed for it to be. <3

**art by mu-zi-light on tumblr**

**LoveThem2121 on ao3**


	2. writing

The locker room is Even’s home away from home. The smell of sweat and musk and the adrenaline and energy of the room is comforting now—especially on days like today, when they get to write a W on their game schedule. Not only that, but they get to write it in the special gold Sharpie, because they’d defeated the Raiders. Even’s a Hawk, and they’ve rivaled the Raiders since before Even’s parents were high school aged. Hell, maybe even before Even’s parents were  _ born. _ The rivalry runs deep, and far. 

It’s the first time the Hawks have beaten the Raiders, ending the Raiders’ winning streak that spanned most of Even’s school career. It was nice to break the streak, to dismantle the ego that had been festering in the blood of the Raiders. There’s nothing more satisfying than coming out of a rivalry game victorious. You can’t get that type of high from drugs, or from bets, or from anything. It’s a different type of buzz, a different type of euphoria. Even would live with this feeling forever, if he could. 

“Good job out there, Næsheim,” Mutta says, clapping him on the back as they change into clean clothes. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you hustle like that.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Nah, man, I’m serious. You’ve been a bit distracted lately. Everyone’s noticed that you’ve been a little off. Not just in football, just… in general. It’s just nice to have your head back in the game.”

Even rolls his eyes, pulling his shirt over his head and closing his locker. “My head never left the game, Mutta. Everyone has off days.” He slings his bag over his shoulder, and sighs when he sees the concerned expression remain on Mutta’s face. “I promise it’s nothing. Like you said, my head’s back in the game. Everything’s good. Anyway, my mom’s waiting on me, so…” He gives a short wave and steps out of the locker room. 

So he’s been a bit off for the past few weeks. It’s not really a big deal. It didn’t affect his gameplay—if anything, it helped. With everything that had been going on, football gave him an outlet for his frustrations. And he feels a lot better now, so it’s fine. Everything’s fine. 

He makes his way towards the visiting stands, weaving through crowds of face-painted girls and mostly drunk boys. The home stands had emptied rather quickly, probably due to the bitter defeat they’d faced. Even can’t help how smug he feels about it—especially when the people he passes stop him to tell him good game. It definitely doesn’t do anything to hurt his ego.

His mother and father are standing by a trash can just underneath the stands, and Even jogs over to them. His mom lights up when she sees him, pulling him into a hug. 

“That was such a good game, Even!” She praises, squeezing him tightly. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“It’s hard to believe that the season’s over. Just one more year to go!” Even’s dad grins, pulling him into a side hug. “We’ll have to keep you working this summer so you’re ready for those scouts in the fall.”

Even’s mom, Liv, elbows his dad in the side. “Don’t talk about that, Anders. I don’t even want to think about my baby moving away for college.” She puts on a fake pouting face, and Even forces himself to laugh. 

As far as Even’s concerned, senior year can’t start  _ and  _ finish fast enough. He’s ready to get out of this town, away from everyone he grew up with, away from the same old same old. He’s itching to move away, practically buzzing under his skin at the mere prospect of a life outside of this town. At the promise of  _ more. _

“It’ll be here before we know it,” Anders says, draping his arm over Liv’s shoulders. “Time flies when you’re having fun, right?”

“Yeah, Dad. That’s exactly how I feel,” Even lies. He doesn’t lie to his parents very often. It’s just that his dad is right, college will be here before they know it. Days go by slow, but years fly by. And if it takes a few white lies here and there to keep his parents happy for now, then he’ll do it. 

“So,” Liv interjects, “we were hoping you’d be free to join us for a celebratory dinner tonight. Anywhere you like, our treat.”

Even’s face falls. “Oh, um…” He turns around, looking back towards the locker rooms. “I was actually going to go out with my teammates to celebrate our win.”

“You always go out with them after games, Even. They’ll be fine without you for one meal.”

“Yeah, but this is our rivalry game. We just want to go out and celebrate.”

Liv smiles a little, resting her hand on Anders’s shoulder. “It’s okay, hon. Let him go be with his friends.” She turns back to Even, and guilt swirls in his stomach like a swarm of angry butterflies. He knows that Liv truly wouldn’t mind if Even went out with his teammates, but he also knows that Liv has a horrible poker face. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and Even can read the disappointment on her face like it’s a book.

“You know what? Yeah, sure, we can go out. I can hang with the team another time,” Even says, and the way his mom’s face lights up makes it more than worth it. “How about Five Guys? We haven’t been there in forever.”

“Sounds good! Let’s go, Anders, he must be starving.”

Even pulls his gym bag tighter on his shoulder, following his parents to the parking lot. It’s usually quiet leaving games, quiet enough that Even can hear himself think. But tonight there’s a party in student parking, and Even would, under normal circumstances, be right there in the throng. Instead, he’s crossing the gravel pathway to his mom’s minivan. 

(Not only does she have a minivan, but there’s more than a few bumper stickers. Even’s personal favorite is the Football Mom one, with a heart as the O in mom. He’d tried to ‘lose’ that particular decal before she’d gotten the chance to put it on her car. Clearly, his efforts had been futile.)

The parking lot is busy even past the students. It reeks of alcohol and weed, which is kind of gross, but Even is so used to it from house parties that it doesn’t even faze him. 

What does faze him is seeing Isak Valtersen sitting on the curb, smoking a joint. 

“Hey, Mom, I’ll catch up in a second,” Even calls, and then heads over to Isak. 

Isak doesn’t notice Even approaching until Even accidentally steps on a bag of half-eaten chips, but even then Isak doesn’t really acknowledge him. The rivalry between himself and Isak Valtersen runs almost as deep and deadly as the rivalry between the Hawks and the Raiders, and Even normally wouldn’t be caught dead talking to him without a valid reason. 

Tonight’s valid reason is his ego getting the better of him. 

“Valtersen!” He calls, plopping down next to the guy on the curb. The smell of the weed makes his stomach turn, but he forces himself to ignore it. He doesn’t need to smoke. “Long time, no see! Got any injuries tonight? I know you took a pretty good fall when I knocked you down those pegs.”

Isak rolls his eyes, breathing out the smoke he’d been holding. “The referee was biased, and your win was rigged,” he deadpans, his voice scratchy from the smoke. Even just snorts. It’s the same absurd rumors he hears from the Raiders every time they take a beating. They get accused of cheating, of steroids, of biased referees, and even of using a college athlete on their team. 

There’s no truth to these rumors, none whatsoever. But it doesn’t stop the sting from the accusation. 

“We won fair and square. Don’t get me wrong, your team put up a good fight. Just not good enough.”

“Fuck off, Even.”

“Even! Wow, I didn’t realize we were on a first name basis.”

“We’re not on an any name basis, okay?! You don’t talk to or refer to me, and I won’t talk to or refer to you. Problem solved.” He turns, the joint burning freely between them. Isak doesn’t take another drag. “Is there something else you needed?”

Even shakes his head. “No. I’m actually just on my way to dinner to celebrate our win. You’re more than welcome to join me, if you’re not still angry that we kicked your ass tonight.”

“How about you eat my ass for dinner?”

“Mm, dirty,” Even grins, nudging their shoulders together. “I wouldn’t mind it all that much. Give me a time and a place, baby.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“You’re the one who asked!” Even laughs, and Isak takes another drag. “Why are you sitting out here alone, anyway? Too embarrassed to face your parents after you fucked up not one, not two, but  _ three _ two-point conversions? I would be, too. I can’t imagine facing my dad if I were to—”

“Fuck  _ off _ , Even, okay? Get the hell away from me.”

There’s something off in Isak’s voice, one that makes Even turn to face him properly instead of fucking off. Their banter can get pretty harsh, but Isak’s always ready to snap back with some witty remark. He’s never been so affected by something Even’s teased about before. But now he sounds like he might start crying. 

Even touches his arm, trying to scoot a little bit closer. Isak just rips his arm away and brings a shaky hand up to take yet another drag. “Hey, are you okay?” Even asks, but Isak doesn’t say anything. He just breathes the smoke right into Even’s face. “Dude, I’m going out with my parents, so I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t get me smelling like weed.”

“Get the hell away from me and that won’t be a problem,” Isak snaps. His voice is still wavering, like it’s full of water. Even moves closer again. “Have you never fucking heard of personal space?”

The lighting in the area isn’t that good outside of the stadium floodlights’ reach. Isak’s face is only illuminated by the dim yellow-orange street lamps, but it’s enough. Enough for Even to see his red-rimmed eyes and all the water sitting in them. Enough for Even to see how his bottom lip trembles around his inhale. Isak is  _ crying. _

“Hey, seriously, are you okay?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Isak snaps. He puts his joint out under his foot and stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets. “If all you wanted was to come over and brag, then I’m not in the mood. Okay? I get it, you won, the Hawks beat the Raiders fair and fucking square. We fucked up our two-point conversions, we had more than enough holding penalties, and more than enough interferences. And, god, don’t get me started on the running back’s fumble 5 yards from the end zone. There, that’s everything you were going to say, right?”

“Isak, chill—”

“Great. Glad we’re on the same page. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than stand here and listen to you talk shit.” 

Isak storms off before Even can get another word in. Part of Even feels bad, because he can tell that something was wrong. Most of Even, though, is just annoyed. Isak Valtersen is a huge dick, and that’s something Even sees more and more clearly with every interaction between them. 

Although, if he’s being honest, Isak’s never gone off like that before. And it isn’t the first time Even’s made some pretty nasty digs. Hell, Isak can make some pretty nasty digs when he wants to. Isak is practically the king of low blows. That’s why Even can’t wrap his head around what transpired, and why Isak started actually crying. 

“Even?!” His mom calls as he forces himself off of the curb. “You smell like pot,” she scolds the second they’re close enough. Even just rolls his eyes and climbs into the backseat, leaning his head against the seat. 

Five Guys doesn’t sound all that appetizing. His teammates are probably headed to some steakhouse right this second, celebrating the game and joking around. When Even shows up for their next practice, there’ll be at least 15 new inside jokes that he’ll have missed out on. They’ll have stories and funny memories, all without Even. He loves spending time with his family, sure, but not in times like this. 

The drive there is rather quiet. His parents discuss politics in the front seat, and Even doesn’t really care to hear it. He doesn’t want to hear about the latest headlines and whatever the hell Trump messed up this time. For once, he wants a night where he can just be a teenager. 

As if that’ll happen. The past few months of his life have been spent worrying about colleges, and he’s positive that the next few months will be the same. He’s under so much pressure to figure out what the hell he wants to do with his life, while also making sure he’s working hard enough to get football scholarships. His dad’s told him multiple times that he’ll be a double major in college—one in the area of study he chooses, and one in eligibility. Even used to think it was just a joke. 

The truth is that Even does know what he wants to do, but there’s no way his parents would ever agree with it. His dad wants him in business or medicine or law, something to make money. His mom wants him to be a psychiatrist, because she thinks he’d be a great one. Even doesn’t have the heart to tell them that he doesn’t care about the money. That he just wants to be happy. He doesn’t know how to tell them that the only way he’ll be happy is if he majors in film and directing, his  _ passion. _ He loves it more than football.

But Even can’t tell them that. 

Five Guys isn’t too crowded when they get there, but Even and his mom go to get a table anyway. They share some peanuts while they wait for his dad to order their food, neither of them really talking about much. Even can tell, though, that there’s something on his mom’s mind. 

“Go ahead and ask whatever you want to ask,” Even says, apparently startling his mom. She looks at him with wide eyes, like a deer in headlights. “I can tell you’re holding something back. Just ask.”

“Um…” She clears her throat, looking everywhere except at Even. It makes him nervous to see her so nervous, especially as seconds continue to tick by. “Do you remember that guy who was kicked off of his football team? The one from a few towns over?”

“No?”

“He was kicked off for being gay. Well, they said it was because he was harassing other kids, but we all know the real reason. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure that nothing’s been happening to that kid Isak. The one you used to go to school with? I saw him crying in the parking lot earlier, I didn’t know if—”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. Just stress. I don’t think anyone on either of our teams is homophobic.”

“You better not be,” she warns, and Even forces a smile. Another thing he can’t tell his parents—he likes boys. And girls. But liking boys is the big secret.

Thankfully, before Even can say something to jeopardize his closeted identity, his dad drops into the seat next to his mom. “What are you two talking about?”

“We’re talking about that boy who got kicked off of his football team, which leads me into the next topic. Even, do you remember how his parents tried to file a formal lawsuit against the school and everything?”

“Yes,” Even nods. 

“Well, apparently nothing much became of it. But his parents don’t want people to just accept what happened and move on, so they’re having a charity football game next month. All proceeds go to various LGBT charities. We think you should sign up for conditioning and tryouts,” His Mom explains, and Even’s heart honest to god stops in his chest. 

The thing is, there’s only one reason that his mom would want him in that charity match. She’d been making a big deal about it being an LGBT charity match, after all. Was she trying to say something? Was she trying to communicate that she knows about Even’s sexuality? Just the thought makes a lump grow in his throat. 

“W-Why do you think I should try out?” He asks, working to keep his voice from shaking. He hopes his mom doesn’t notice.

“Because,” his dad interjects, “there might be some scouts at this game. Not to mention the fact that it’ll keep you in shape even after the season ends, if only for a bit.”

His mom is nodding along, reaching over and taking his dad’s hand. That’s what they do when they want to come across as a united front. It’s their way of telling Even that he doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter at all, because they’ve made up their minds. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. 

“Okay,” Even agrees. “I’ll try out. But if I don’t make the team…”

“Sweetheart, you’re the best quarterback in the state. They’d be lucky to have you,” Liv grins. 

Even doesn’t get to say anything else, because the Five Guys cashier calls their name and Anders gets up to retrieve their food. When he sits down again, the conversation changes, and Even works on forcing his body to settle. They don’t know that Even is pansexual, there’s no way they could know. He’s fine. His secret is still secret. 

Which makes him want to try out all the more. If he can’t be out and proud, the least he can do is play for the benefit of those who can. If he can play and earn those LGBT charities some money, then he’s all for it. What’s he got to lose?

***

There’s a sign up sheet on the bulletin board at school, and Even’s name is the sixteenth on the list. He hadn’t expected much of a turn out after seeing that. 

It was a bit surprising, then, when Even showed up to the first Saturday of conditioning and saw at least 40 boys standing on the field stretching. Even had located Mikael in the crowd and sat by him, and they stretched while getting ready. 

“Are you nervous?” Mikael asks, while they’re doing lunges. 

“Nervous?” Even asks, and Mikael nods. “About what?” They switch legs, and Even can feel the burn in his thighs. 

“Isak’s here, trying out for quarterback too. I know you two have competed before, but never one on one like this. You have to be at least a little nervous.”

Even hadn’t known that Isak was there. He’d forgotten that the tryouts were open to various schools in the district, not just his own. Isak probably saw the poster and signups on his own school bulletin board, and signed up for the same—or similar—reasons that Even had. All in all, he shouldn’t be surprised. But as it is, he’s in shock, eyes frantically scanning the crowd for a sign of his rival. 

He finds Isak in the front row to the far right, stretching his calves. Even tries not to let his gaze linger too long, lest someone notice and make it about something more than what it actually was. He’s not into Isak like that. He’s not.  

He’s so fucked. 

“Alright, ladies!” The coach calls out, a bright smile on his face. Even falls into line with the rest of the players, folding his arms over his chest and trying to puff up as much as possible. Some of the players on the field were the perfect image of defensive players—absolutely  _ huge, _ pure muscle. Even doesn’t want to look weak and scrawny in comparison, even if he is an offensive player. “I’m really happy to see how great the turnout is. As you all know, this is for a great cause, and seeing the youth of our community standing up for what’s right is awe-inspiring. I’ve never been prouder of a group of teenagers, and my school’s football team are 3-time state champions, so that really means something. Before we start with some drills, I want to get y’all warmed up properly. So, I want all of you to run four laps around the track and then meet right back here.”

“Four laps?!” One kid protests, and Even cringes. If anyone on his football team complained about workouts, their coach would deliver more drills. Even hopes this coach isn’t the same. “That’s a whole mile!”

“Congratulations, kid, you can do math. Now hop to it, don’t keep me waiting.” The coach blows his whistle, and the group makes for the track, already picking up a light jog. 

Even is a good runner. He’s fast, and he has endurance. So he has no problem running the four laps around the track, coming to the end out of breath but not all that tired. He’s the fifth to finish, and it takes nearly twenty minutes for all of the boys to finish. By that time, there’s five agility ladders laid out in the grass. 

“Alright, boys, we’ve got forty-five of you here, so I want five lines of nine, one line behind each ladder,” the assistant coach instructs. Even moves to the middle ladder, right behind Mikael. “We’re going to start with a few footwork drills. First, you’re going to do the ickey shuffle. For those of you who might not know what that is, you follow this three count. In, out, and up. Start by standing at the end of the ladder and to the side of the first square. Step laterally into the first square of the ladder with each foot, then step out with just your outside foot. Place the foot still in the square into the next square of the ladder followed by the outside foot. Does everyone understand, or do I need to demonstrate?” At the sound of silence, the assistant coach sighs heavily and moves to show how to do the ickey shuffle. 

Even knows how to do the ickey shuffle. While it’s one of the most complex agility drills on the ladder, it’s also one of the most popular. But getting the footwork just right can be difficult, and he didn’t want the newer players to go without a demonstration. So he stayed quiet. 

“You’re gonna go forward and then backwards, and then go to the back of the line. We’re going to go through the lines four times, and the first group to finish can sit out of the next drill. Ready? Go.”

At the blow of the whistle, boys start moving. Even is fifth in line, so for a short period, he gets to watch others’ feet work. He finds that offensive players are much better than defensive, aside from one guy who’s proven—so far—to be amazing at everything. Even’s seen him on the field before, and he’s definitely an inspiration. 

When it gets to Even’s turn, he doesn’t hesitate to jump right into it. He does stumble once, but he’s done a lot worse. He goes to the back of the line when he’s finished and high fives Mikael, happy that they’ve both still got great footwork. Mikael’s agility was the thing he was the most proud of, when it came to football. 

They do a few more drills with the agility ladder, and then run some more. After a short 10 minute water break, they get in lines again and the assistant coach stands in front of them. 

“We’re going to split you into groups, now. Linebackers and cornerbacks, go to the left 10 yard line with our student athletic trainer. Tackles, ends, and safeties, left 30 yard line with the athletic director from the local high school. Centers, 50 yard line with me. Receivers and quarterbacks, right 30 yard line with the coach.”

Even follows the small group of centers and quarterbacks to the 30 yard line, congregating with them there. The coach goes to the middle of the yard line and places seven sets of cones along with seven footballs on the line. 

“Alright, we’re going to do some throwing progression drills. Now, we have eight quarterbacks and six receivers, so I can’t pair all of you like I wanted to. Since Næsheim and Valtersen are our two strongest, however, I’m sure they won’t mind taking one for the team. Næsheim on this end, Valtersen move down to the 20 across from him. Our other pairings will be—”

Even tunes out the rest of the words the coach says, watching Isak walk down to the 20 yard line. Of course he’d be partnered with  _ Isak, _ of all people. 45 boys and Even and Isak get stuck together. He gets a sinking feeling that this is the start of something that’ll only end up in the shithole for him. 

“Drill one is going to be a release drill,” Coach Olsen announces, when Even tunes back in. “Quarterbacks stand at the cones and throw to your partner. In Valtersen’s case, he’ll throw right back; for the rest of you, just toss it back. Do 5 reps at 10 yards and 5 reps at 20.” He blows the whistle as a signal to start, and then Even picks up the football. 

Isak prepares to catch as Even prepares to throw. He has a good arm, and he knows it. But when it comes to throwing now, it’s like he freezes. Something in his hand-eye coordination goes all wonky and despite all the throwing happening around him, he just can’t get the right grip on the ball. 

He takes a deep breath, aligning his fingers on the lacing. He can do this, he does this multiple times a night, multiple times a week. This is what he does best, this is what he was  _ made _ to do. He can do this. 

“Come on, Even!” Isak yells, but it’s not encouraging or teasing. It’s annoyed. “Don’t just stand there with your dick in your hand, throw the fucking ball!”

“Shut up, Valtersen!” Even yells back, positioning his feet properly. “You’d kill to get my dick in your hand.” And then he throws the ball as hard as he can, and it’s not the best—he feels a twinge in his shoulder—but it’s enough that Isak doesn’t catch it. It tumbles out of his hands and on the ground, far enough over that the receiver standing next to him has to toss it back. Even tries to keep the smirk off of his face. 

Once Isak retrieves the ball, he looks properly angry. “Oh, so that’s how we’re playing this?” He asks, getting his hands ready without any of the hesitation that Even had had. It should make him nervous, but it doesn’t. 

“Give me your best shot,” Even calls back. 

And Isak does. He throws hard, hard enough that his feet stumble forward even though they should be planted flat on the ground. But Even catches it easily, with only one hand. 

“Maybe you should be a receiver,” Isak says, “since you can catch better than you throw.”

“And you can’t do either,” Even grins, preparing himself and throwing again. Isak scowls, but doesn’t say any more for the rest of the drill. Even tried not to be disappointed. 

The next drill is weight transfer and rotation. It’s pretty much the same thing with the added twist of standing sideways, as one typically would during gameplay, and throwing it that way. Once again, Isak talks shit and Even proves him wrong, and then Even talks shit and Isak proves him wrong. There’s a reason they’re the best quarterbacks in the state. 

The third drill is crossover balance. It’s the same as the weight transfer, but with the addition of crossover steps back and throw. It builds Even’s momentum, so he can throw harder. 

However, when Isak backs up to do their 5 reps at 20 yards, Even’s throws start going a bit short. And it’s weird, because Even should be able to throw at least 25 yards. He’s done it before, he’s thrown farther before. Hell, he’s thrown  _ 35 _ yards before. This shouldn’t be a problem. 

But it is. And Isak can’t believe it. 

“Oh, my god,” Isak muses, when he has to run forward to catch the football. For the fourth time. “You can’t throw far enough, Næsheim? Maybe I should come over there and teach you how.”

“Shut up. My arm’s just getting tired.”

Isak tsks, shaking his head as he juggles the football between his palms. “Poor stamina. I get that. I used to have that problem too, when I was a virgin. Oh, wait, what I meant to say was—I had that problem when I first started playing football.”

The joke isn’t that funny, but because it’s Isak teasing him, it makes his skin prickle uncomfortably. All of Isak’s throws have been impeccable when it comes to distance, and Even normally doesn’t have performance issues. 

Shit, another innuendo. At least he didn’t say that one out loud. 

There’s something about Isak and sex that just… shouldn’t go together. Not as far as Even is concerned, anyway.

“Do you ever stop talking?” Even asks, preparing himself to catch Isak’s stupid, perfect throw. “I swear I keep hearing your voice and it’s like the annoying buzz of a mosquito that just won’t leave you alone.” Isak throws and Even catches, and it’s perfect. Of course it’s perfect, because Isak is perfect and Isak is better at football and he’ll probably get the position and Even won’t go to college. 

He’s spiraling. He needs to stop spiraling. 

Isak just smirks. “I’m just having some friendly conversation with my drill partner. Come on, one more throw and then you can stop embarrassing yourself.”

“I’m not embarrassing myself.”

“Really? I guess you’re just embarrassing me, then.”

“Why would I be embarrassing you?”

“Because,” Isak grins, mischievous, “I was lumped together with you as ‘the best quarterbacks in the state’. It’s a bit embarrassing to be compared to you when your talent is a bit, well, lacking.”

“Fuck you.” Even throws the ball again, and it doesn’t come up short this time. The best part is that Isak wasn’t ready, so the football nails him straight in the sternum, making him cough. Even doesn’t even check to see if he’s alright, just turns around and waits on instructions for their next drill. 

But one thing Even needs to learn is to never turn his back to a tiger. The next thing he knows he’s being hit in the center of his back with the football, and he knows without looking that Isak had moved back to the 20 yard line. Maybe even 25 yards. However close he was, it was  _ too _ close, and it hurt like a bitch. 

Thankfully, Even doesn’t have to handle this one for himself. The coach blows his whistle and jogs over to Isak to scold him while one of the parent volunteers runs over to check and make sure he’s okay. Even can’t help but feel kind of smug about the fact that Isak got in trouble, and he knows it shows on his face, because Isak scowls at him. Even doesn’t care. 

Really. He doesn’t. 

They go through the rest of the throwing drills civilly, with no harsh words (or any words at all) or unanticipated throws at anyone. Afterwards they split for another water break, and Even hurries to find Mikael in the crowd. They lay down on the sidelines, catching their breath and trying to get out of the hot midday sun. 

“How’s training with Isak?” Mikael asks, and Even just frowns. “That bad, huh?”

“Don’t get me started,” Even grumbles. “It’s like he’s out specifically to make my life miserable. My throws were short a few times and he won’t let me live it down, I swear.”

Mikael blinks, clearly taken aback. “Your throws were short? Since when do you not throw distance?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know. It was so weird, it was like I was throwing with my left hand or something. Like it was off.”

“That’s weird,” Mikael observes. “You should look into that before tryouts.”

The rest of conditioning is uneventful, aside from the constant slew of insults hurled his way. Even knows he’s not exactly innocent when it comes to heckling Isak, but he’d tried his best not to start anything today. But God, when Isak gets going,  _ Even _ gets going. He’s not sure he can handle this for the next week before tryouts—and if they both make the team… He just can’t do it. 

He spends the entire car ride home psyching himself up to tell his parents he’s not doing the charity event. 

And when he gets home, he stands in front of his parents while they sit on the couch, and his heart pounds in his chest. If he’s this nervous now, he can only imagine how it’ll feel when—if—he comes out. He wipes his sweaty palms on his shorts, takes a deep breath, and says,

“I don’t want to play on the charity team.”

It’s like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. His mom is staring him down, clearly confused; his dad is folding his arms, awaiting an explanation. Even swallows hard, wipes his palms off again, and tries to breathe through the suffocating tension in the room. It’s almost like he’d told them he liked boys. 

“I just don’t think it’s the best choice for me,” he continues, picking at a loose string on the hem of his shirt. “Isak’s trying out too, you know… He’s been my rival for the past two years, and he will be for the next two. I’m going there to play my best for potential scouts so next year when I apply to college I might have some football scholarships. I don’t know how I’ll be able to achieve that if I’m spending the tryouts and the game worrying about whether or not he’s better than me, and if the scouts want him more.”

His dad scoots forward. “If you back out, he’s going to be the only one the scouts see. He’s going to be the one with the charity football game to put on his applications. That’s giving him a leg up when—”

“When you both could have the same opportunities,” his mom interjects. “If you two are both in the game and the scouts still prefer Isak, then you at least know you gave it your best shot. But if you back out—”

“If you back out, you’re just handing him the win and the scholarships and the exposure.”

Even really, really hates it when his parents finish each other’s sentences. It feels like they’re ganging up on him, like they’ve already decided they’re not going to listen to what he has to say. Like they’re reading off of a script of What To Say Whenever Even Decides He Wants To Quit. 

Even sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “So I guess you two already had this talk rehearsed, then,” he mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Which means I’m going to play in the game whether I want to or not.”

“No, honey, it’s totally up to you. If you want to back out, that’s your decision to make. Your father and I just want to make sure you’re aware of the potential consequences of that decision,” Liv explains. 

Which is basically code for  _ you’re going to play in the game whether you want to or not. _

“Right,” Even sighs. “Alright, then. I guess I’ll go shower and get ready for dinner.”

“Thanks for having this talk with us,” his father says, as Even turns towards the stairs and begins his ascent. “You know you can always come to us.”

As if. “Thanks, Dad.” And then Even’s gone, and they’re out of earshot. Part of him wants to punch the wall, and the rest of him wants to take a hot shower and then curl up in bed with a bowl of ice cream to watch Queer Eye. He chooses the latter. 

Dinner consists of some bullshit veggie tacos, which Even only eats so his mother won’t bitch about him taking the entire container of butter pecan Häagen-Dazs to his room. It’s not the best food to eat when considering the fact that he has to work out every single day this week, but he doesn’t care in the moment. He wants to throw himself a pity party. 

His phone buzzes a mere 20 minutes into the first episode of Queer Eye. Even is both surprised and not surprised to see that it’s Isak. 

_ Conditioning cancelled tomorrow for weather. Want to hit the gym with me? _

Even considers it. A whole day not having to put up with Isak and his immaturity and stupid, annoyingly attractive face, or going to the gym willingly and therefore having no right to complain? The choice is easy, in the end. 

_ I don’t know, my mom said she might need me to run errands with her tomorrow. I’ll let you know.  _

Isak doesn’t respond, and Even doesn’t care. He just tosses his phone aside and digs back into the ice cream, trying to pretend the whole day never happened. 

He doesn’t normally wallow in defeat like this. All in all, he’s a pretty resilient person. Or he tries to be. But Isak knows how to get under his skin, how to push every single button that Even has. Including the ones that Even didn’t even know about. How he’s going to put up with that for the next few months, he doesn’t know. He’ll have to figure something out. 

His phone buzzes again, this time with an Instagram notification. 

_ @isakyaki mentioned you in a comment: @evenbn you _

When Even opens the notification, he finds himself staring at a meme. A stupid meme, at that. The caption says, ‘When I say I’ll let you know’, and is followed by a photo of a man standing next to a whiteboard that reads, ‘In conclusion : I ain’t coming’. It’s not that funny, but Even laughs and types his own comment. 

_ @evenbn: @isakyaki see you tomorrow at 8am, asshole  _

***

Agreeing to go to the gym at 8am is quite possibly the dumbest decision that Even’s ever made in his life. He’s tired and would rather die than pick up a single weight. Isak, however, is lively as fuck, and has already benched more than Even would probably be able to manage in the whole day if he stays as groggy as he is. 

“What’s the matter, Even?” Isak asks, as he waits for a few moments between sets. “Didn’t get enough sleep last night?”

“No, I was having nightmares.”

For a moment, Isak actually looks concerned. It’s an odd look on him, but not a bad one. Even doesn’t want to think about what that means. “What about?”

“Being here with you,” Even quips, and Isak rolls his eyes, laying back on the bench. “I’m serious, I was up all night thinking about it.”

Isak snorts, “Up all night thinking about me? Please, Even, I don’t need to know about your jerk-off sessions.”

“Oh, piss off.” Even’s cheeks heat, and he turns a bit in the hopes Isak won’t see it. 

That’s the really annoying about it all—Isak’s hot. Even’s never denied that simple fact to himself. And he is the exact type of guy that Even could see himself fantasizing about. If he wasn’t a grade A asshole (and the backbone of his rival team), he might even be someone that Even would consider pursuing…  Provided he gets over all of the internalized homophobia in his head. 

Point is—Even’s thought about it. More than he’s willing to admit. 

“I’m not gay,” he adds, because it feels necessary. It’s perfectly plausible that Isak’s just making a stupid joke with absolutely no underlying suggestions, but Even can’t let it sit unsaid. “Just so you know.”

“Okay, great. I didn’t ask.”

Even rolls his eyes. “I know you didn’t, but… I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

Isak’s timer goes off, signaling that he should start another set, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stares Even down. “Are you under the impression that I’m interested in you? Because I’m not. And if it makes you so uncomfortable—the idea of hanging out with a gay man, that is—then you can go. And you can drop out of the charity game.”

“What? No, no, I’m not under any impression. And I’m not saying I’m uncomfortable, because I’m not. I just—”

“You just what?”

“I don’t know,” Even sighs, shoving his earbuds back in his ears and turning away from Isak once more. He’s half convinced at this point that the words  _ I Like Dick _ are in neon lights on his forehead. 

He moves to the squat rack, positioning himself under the weight he’d already set up. Squatting isn’t Even’s strong suit, really. He almost always needs a spot, but he’s not about to ask Isak to do it. The asshole is practically accusing him of being a homophobe when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

Or maybe he is, in a way. After all, the only thing holding him back from telling people like Isak, openly gay people who would never judge him, is internalized homophobia. His own prejudices, his own shame. Those feelings are his and no one else’s, so as it is, he’s responsible for them. 

So, he squats without a spot and nothing goes wrong. He’s in too much of a pissy mood to be fucking up anyway. There’s nothing like raw, hot anger and embarrassment to fuel a good iron pumping session. 

During his break between sets, Isak walks up to him and plucks the headphones right out of his ears. “I want to know what you were about to say,” he demands, and Even tries to pull back. “No, Even,  _ please _ share with the class. Tell me why you felt it so necessary to tell me that you’re not gay.”

“There was no reason.”

“Of course there was a reason,” Isak scoffs. “You don’t just come out with that like some sort of icebreaker. Something made you think that you had to tell me you’re not gay. So what was it?”

Isak looks really, really hot when he’s mad. Even wants to kiss it off his face.

“You’re such an asshole,” Even mumbles, pulling the weights off of the bar and putting them back into place, reminding his brain (and dick) of the situation at hand. How dare Isak accuse him of being homophobic? Isak knows nothing about him, absolutely nothing. 

Isak grabs his arm, doesn’t let him head towards the locker room. “ _ I’m _ the asshole?!” Isak snaps, and Even pulls his arm away. The touch had been electric, too much to bear. Even doesn’t know what to do with that information. “You’re the one who started this shit, man. And let me tell you, I’ve put up with way too much homophobic bullshit in my life to put up with even one tiny snarky remark from you.”

“It came out wrong,” Even placates, “that’s all.”

“Bullshit!”

“Goddamn it, Isak—” Even cuts himself off by stepping forward and all but slamming their lips together. The initial contact was painful, but after that Even didn’t feel the pain anymore. 

There’s no one in the gym, which means no one can see them. Even can be here, in public, kissing a boy—and nothing is happening. The Earth is still spinning, the sun is still shining, and no one is saying a goddamn word to them about it. Even can stand here and kiss this boy and nothing happens. 

Until Isak happens, that is. 

Isak shoves him away suddenly, anger all over his face. “Is this fucking funny to you?” Isak snaps, and Even’s heart sinks to the floor. “Because it’s not. You’re fucking cruel.”

“Isak, no,” He interjects. “It’s not a joke. I’m being serious, I  _ swear _ I’m being 100% serious. Isak, please.”

“You’re being serious? After you had a temper tantrum about not being gay? Fuck off. That’s not a funny fucking joke. We’re done here.”

“Isak,” Even says desperately, trying to catch his arm and bring him back. “Isak, just listen to me—”

But then Isak’s gone, and Even is left with nothing but laundry to do when he gets home and pure, utter silence. 

***

Isak isn’t at conditioning the next day, so Even has to join another partnership for the conditioning drills. It’s awkward enough already, without Even having to think about the fact that he’s the reason Isak isn’t there. 

The following day, Isak returns. There’s no teasing, no insults, nothing. They do their drills in silence, only speaking when necessary. Even feels like shit for it. Their rivalry was stupid, it didn’t run as deep as he used to think. Their rivalry didn’t mean they had to hate each other, because this is what comes out of it. Even doesn’t think he ever hated Isak. It was just...misplaced and misunderstood feelings. 

Even doesn’t try to speak to him, though. He doesn’t think that’s what Isak would want. So he keeps his distance. When Isak manages to get in the locker room showers before Even, Even decides to wait, because he doesn’t want his presence to make Isak uncomfortable. 

Isak doesn’t come out for a long, long time. Even nearly resigns himself to just showering at home, especially once the last person leaves the locker room—leaving him and Isak alone. But then he decides that Isak shouldn’t have monopoly over the fucking showers, so he grabs his towel and heads back there. He can shower off and still leave Isak alone. 

When he gets to the showers, Isak is standing under the water with his back to Even. Despite the angle, Even can just barely make out the telltale arm movements going on, and he immediately spins around and starts to leave—knocking over a shower caddy in the process. He cringes, but doesn’t turn back around. He doesn’t want to further humiliate Isak. 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly says, feeling Isak’s eyes burning holes in his back. “I was waiting for you to finish showering before I did, because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But everyone’s left already and my mom will worry if I’m not home soon so I just… I didn’t see anything, I swear. I’m so sorry, I’ll just go home and shower, I didn’t—”

“Even, relax,” Isak says, but Even doesn’t. His shoulders are so tense they hurt, and his mind is racing 100 miles a minute. “You have no reason to apologize. I’m the one who should be apologizing, for putting you in this position, and… And for making you feel like you couldn’t take a shower without making me uncomfortable.” A pause. “You can turn around.”

Even does, and finds that Isak is wrapped in a towel now. “I really am sorry,” he says anyway. “I know things were weird at the gym, I didn’t intend on making them that way.”

“I overreacted,” Isak offers. “I jumped to conclusions without letting you explain yourself. I’m sorry for that.”

“You were just drawing conclusions based on evidence, I don’t blame you for that.” Even hesitates, still clutching his own towel in a death grip. The last thing he needs is a fucking boner from seeing Isak’s tan, muscled, naked body dripping with water. “I’m not gay, though.”

Isak nods, “Okay. That’s okay.”

“I don’t know what I am.”

“That’s okay.”

“All I know is that I am really, really flustered right now, because you look really good. And I don’t know how to feel about that.”

Isak stands, walking across the showers and placing his hands delicately on Even’s shoulders. It’s such a difference from the other morning that Even can’t believe it’s the same person. “Feel whatever you feel,” he murmurs, “and don’t worry about explaining it.”

“Okay,” Even breathes. 

“What do you feel right now?”

“I feel like I want to kiss you again.”

Isak gives him a small smile. “Then do it.”

Even obliges, leaning forward and pressing their lips together again. Isak’s still wet from the shower and Even knows he probably smells awful, but neither of those things seem to be a deterrent. Instead, Isak just backs Even up until his back hits the wall, and the kissing gets more and more heated. 

Even’s not a virgin. He knows how to kiss to make it feel good, and he knows where to touch to indicate his intentions. But it  _ is _ his first time doing these things with a guy, so he can’t help but be a little shaky when he reaches down to grip Isak’s hips. It doesn’t help that Even’s skin meets the flimsy towel, reminding him that Isak is very naked and probably still hard—with only one piece of fabric separating him from it. His own dick gives a twitch of interest at the thought. 

So, he takes control. He spins them around so Isak’s back is against the wall, and then starts pressing sloppy kisses down the side of Isak’s neck. Isak’s breathing is labored, and he knots his hand in Even’s hair and tilts his neck to grant him better access. Whilst trying to build up the courage to ask Isak for what he wants, he sucks a deep purple bruise on his shoulder—somewhere he can hide it. 

“Isak,” he breathes, pulling back, “do you need any help with that?”

Isak’s blushing as he glances down at the tent in his towel. Even’s sure that if his boner had flagged at all upon being walked in on, it’s definitely back at full mast now. “You don’t have to,” Isak whispers, rubbing his thumbs over the nape of Even’s neck. “It’s okay.”

“I want to. I-If you want to.”

Isak nods, “Okay. I want to.”

“Okay.”

They kiss again, and Even lets his hands wander. He rubs over Isak’s chest, his nipples, down over his abs. His fingers find the knot of the towel and he carefully pulls on it, working it until it’s loose enough to drop. He can’t help himself from pulling back from the kiss so he can look down and admire Isak’s dick. 

It’s a good dick, as far as dicks go. Long, decently thick. Standing at attention, red and angry—due to the delayed release, probably. Even spits in his hand and reaches down to close his hand around it, starting out with long, slow strokes. Isak moans, dropping his head back against the wall. 

“I want to try…” Even ends his sentence there, but he figures Isak knows what he means when Even unceremoniously sinks to his knees. 

If the way he swears is anything to go by, Even would say he’s happy about it. 

“God,” Isak chokes out, “please. T-Take your time, go easy.”

But one thing Even knows about himself is that he doesn’t have a gag reflex, and he intends to make the most of that. Especially if it’ll get Isak to moan that prettily again. So, he starts lowering his mouth over Isak, inch by torturous inch.

“Fuuuuuck,” Isak groans, and Even can’t help but feel a sense of pride for leaving Isak like this. Maybe the rivalry is seeping in here, but part of Even couldn’t care less. He’s going to make Isak come like this. 

And, maybe, afterwards Isak will make him come, too.

***

Isak and Even are  _ not _ dating. They just have sex, and a lot of it. Nobody knows about it, nor will they ever know—there are no public Instagram posts or holding hands in public. Because they’re not dating, they’re just fucking. 

It wasn’t meant to happen. They were supposed to stick to quickies in the locker room every time the tension between them got too much, and that was all. But one night Isak had texted asking Even to come over, and they’ve been done for ever since. There’s something so much nicer about having sex on a nice, fluffy bed than in a disgusting tile room. 

Especially once they move on to actual, proper sex. Which could very well be the best thing that Even’s ever felt in his lifetime. 

Even keeps reminding himself of all of this as he lays in Isak’s bed, trying to cool off and get his wits about him before Isak’s parents come home. He listens carefully, over the sounds of the creaky ceiling fan and Isak in the shower, for any noises that might indicate that they’re not alone in the house anymore. So far, he’s heard nothing. 

The first red flag should’ve been Isak telling him that it would be okay if he stayed until Isak got out of the shower. When they started this enemies with benefits thing, they’d agreed on a set of ground rules. No cuddling, no staying over, no introducing each other to family and friends, and no feelings. (Originally they’d included a no kissing rule too, but quickly realized that one would be impossible to follow.) Even should’ve brought up the rules when Isak asked him to stay. 

But he didn’t. 

He shouldn’t have stayed. His skin is still sticky with sweat but he decides it doesn’t matter, and pulls on his clothes as quickly as possible—trying to get out of the house before Isak gets out of the shower. He shoves everything in his pockets and then tries to find his shoes, searching the entire room in a frenzy. 

Then the shower turns off, and Even is caught in the act. 

“Are you leaving?” Isak asks, rubbing at his hair with a towel. “You didn’t have to stay if you didn’t want to.”

“It wasn’t that.”

Isak moves across the room, slides his underwear on under his towel before dropping it. Even tries not to look at his abs, his bulge, his thighs. “I was just saying that it would be okay to stay if you did want to,” Isak begins, and Even feels more confused now than he did before. “But I know that’s against our rules. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just thought it’d be nice to have a second to regroup before we each go back to pretending we hate each other.”

Even’s brows furrow. “You’re pretending you hate me?” He asks, because all of Isak’s anger has seemed pretty real. To know that he’s been pretending all along makes something odd settle in Even’s gut. “Why?”

Isak looks like a deer in headlights. “You know, it’s kind of hard to hate the guy who lets you fuck him,” he offers up, but it’s stilted. It sounds rehearsed. “Anyway, you can go if you want. You should go, I mean.”

“Okay,” Even says dumbly. 

“Okay.”

And then Even leaves, his mind swimming with thoughts that have nothing to do with Isak’s dick and everything to do with Isak’s thoughts. That’s something he’s never really done before, and he doesn’t know how to start now. 

***

Tryouts officially start the following Monday, and Isak and Even arrive together. They get a couple of weird stares when they walk into the stadium together, but for the most part everyone leaves them be. Only the coach comments on their newfound friendship—Even can’t help but laugh at the inaccuracy of the label. He and Isak weren’t friends; they weren’t enemies either. They were fuck buddies. If only the rest of the team knew. 

“Try and keep the sexual tension to a minimum,” Mikael teases as they get changed in the locker room. Isak’s locker is across the room, and Even has to actively remind himself not to look over at him. How would he explain his lingering gaze as anything heterosexual? “I know you two have been drill partners, but now that the rivalry is about to start again, I don’t want to be thinking about your athletic blue balls.”

Even’s throat closes in on itself. Were he and Isak that obvious? Nobody can know that he likes boys, not even Mikael. “What the hell are you talking about?” He asks, but his voice wavers. 

“The way you two act on the field, it’s like something out of a romcom.”

“No, we don’t,” Even mumbles, shutting his locker almost too loudly. “Isak and I aren’t even friends, okay? It’s like you said: we were drill partners. That’s it.”

“Okay, okay, no need to get so defensive.”

Even rolls his eyes, picking up his water bottle and making his way out to the field—trying to ignore his heart lodged in his throat. 

***

“You’re going out again?” 

Even turns around from where he’d been stuck in his closet, trying to decide what to wear. He knows it shouldn’t matter—the clothes will be on Isak’s floor sooner rather than later—but  _ still.  _ He wants to look good, he wants Isak to see him and think  _ damn, he’s so fucking hot.  _ Maybe that’s pathetic. 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Even confirms eloquently. He turns back to his closet, holding out one of his favorite sweaters. “Should I wear this?”

“Honey, it’s July. It’s not cold.”

“Right, right.” He hangs it back up, opting for a t-shirt in the same color. He starts to layer it with a hoodie like he always does, but catches himself and layers it with a nice, green jacket instead. 

When he turns around, he expects his mom to be gone. Instead, she’s sat on his bed, a concerned look on her face. “You’ve been going out a lot recently,” she says, and Even shrugs. “Your father and I are worried you might be… participating in activities that may jeopardize any potential scholarship opportunities.”

“What are you implying?” 

“If you’re going to parties—”

“I’m not.”

“Even—”

“I’m telling you the truth,” Even insists. “I’m going to Isak’s more often than not.”

Liv blinks. “Isak? I thought you two hated each other.” 

“Yeah, we did. But we were partners for drills during conditioning, and we got pretty close. I don’t know,” he mumbles, shoving his phone and wallet in his back pocket. “I’m just going to his house and, like, playing FIFA and Fortnite. I promise I’m not going to any parties or doing any drugs.”

“Okay,” she concedes. “But I’m still wary. So… Have him over here one day, for dinner. Let us get to know him.”

“Okay. I have to get going though, he’s expecting me. See you later?” He leans to kiss her cheek, and then hurried out of his room. He doesn’t want to leave Isak waiting too long and risk him changing his mind, or worse, risk him taking care of things himself. Even’s dick twitches in interest at the thought, and he hurries more. 

Isak’s house is 20 minutes away. Even gets there in 14.

Isak’s front door is unlocked, so Even lets himself in. He finds Isak sitting on his bed, playing video games. It’s not an unusual sight, but considering Even was there for a booty call, it  _ is  _ unusual that Isak doesn’t immediately drop his game for some dick. 

“Grab a controller,” Isak grins, glancing at Even for only a moment. “Thanks for coming over. I was really fucking bored.”

“I thought you wanted to fuck,” Even says, deciding just to be blunt. 

“I do️,” Isak confirms. “After I win. And I need help, so… Grab a controller.”

Even gives in, picking up a controller and turning it on. He joins the game and quickly gets wrapped up in it, helping Isak defeat the enemies and forgetting all about his hard-on. It’s the first time they’ve ever really hung out one-on-one without the main goal being mutual orgasms, and Even kind of likes it. Really likes it. More than he thought he would. 

They play for three and a half hours, only stopping when Isak’s Mom texts him that she’ll be home in 30 minutes. That’s when they finally shut off the console and get down to business. Sure, they don’t take as much time as they normally like to, but quickies can be good, too. Especially when it makes Isak come so hard he sees stars. Even thinks Isak looks beautiful like that. 

Afterwards, they both clean up and sit in front of the PlayStation again. Isak’s mom walks in 10 minutes later, all smiles as she introduces herself to the ‘infamous Even’ that she’d heard so much about. Even knows it’s mostly bad things that she’s heard. He tries not to let it bother him. 

They all eat dinner together, and it’s not as awkward as he’d expected. They laugh and they talk like Even and Isak have been best friends for years. Isak’s mom offers him the guest room for the night and Even says he might just take her up on that offer—he wants to stay, more than he’s willing to admit, but doesn’t want to make Isak feel uncomfortable in any way. 

Naturally, when they’re alone, it’s the first thing they talk about. 

“Not spending the night is a rule,” Even says, and Isak just nods in acknowledgment. “But so is not introducing each other to family, as well as spending time together after sex. We’ve done all of those tonight alone. So… If that makes you uncomfortable, I can leave.”

Isak sets his lips together, his eyebrows creasing as he thinks. Even’s almost positive that Isak is going to ask him to leave, maybe even end their agreement. But Isak doesn’t do either of those things.

“We’ve already broken two rules,” Isak shrugs, “so what’s one more? You’re more than welcome to stay the night. Hell, you don’t even have to stay in the guest room.” He pauses. “Unless you want to.”

“What will your mom think if I don’t?”

“She won’t know,” Isak smiles. “You’ll sneak out before she gets up for work.”

Even smiles back, stepping closer. “So you’re saying you want to break all of our rules?” He asks, sliding his hands onto Isak’s hips. “Because I’m pretty sure that sharing a bed entails cuddling.”

“Not all of them,” Isak whispers back, wrapping his arms around Even’s neck and then leaning in to kiss his jaw. 

For a moment, Even loses his train of thought. He gets lost in how Isak’s lips feel on his jaw, and even more as they move down his neck, sucking and nipping. Not enough to leave a mark, because they both know better than that. Just enough to make Even feel good. And god, does it work. 

But then it comes back to him, and he smiles lazily, tilting his head to give Isak better access to his neck. “Which rule do we have left?” He whispers, dipping his fingers into the waistband of Isak’s boxers. 

“No feelings,” Isak whispers, and grinds into Even’s thigh. 

All of a sudden, Even’s stomach hits the floor, and he feels sick. But he doesn’t stop. He can’t let Isak know how much those two words hurt, how they shattered the floor around him. So he doesn’t say anything, he just gives himself in to the feelings, and then comes twice—once in Isak’s mouth and once elsewhere. 

He sleeps in the guest bedroom all night. 

***

**Even** (10:45am)

_ my mom wants to have you over for dinner _

 

**Isak** (10:47am)

_ why? _

 

**Even** (10:47am)

_ because she knows i’ve been spending all my time with you recently _

_ and she thinks i’m doing drugs _

 

**Isak** (10:48am)

_ because i smoke weed? _

 

**Even** (10:51am)

_ because it’s easier to believe im doing drugs than it is to believe we’re friends _

 

**Isak** (10:52am)

_ valid _

_ well if you’re ok with it, i’m down _

_ i mean you’ve met my mom so _

 

**Even** (10:52am)

_ tonight ok? _

 

**Isak** (10:53am)

_ see you then  _

 

**Isak** (10:56am)

_ <3 _

***

Liv’s jaw practically hits the floor when she opens the front door and finds Isak standing there. It would’ve been funny if Even’s heart wasn’t in his throat—a seemingly permanent situation at this point. 

It’s just… What does that heart mean? Isak had expressly said that he wasn’t catching feelings, and yet was doing shit like meeting Even’s Mom and sending heart emojis in their texts. Sure, meeting parents can be construed as platonic, but sending  _ hearts _ in messages? Okay, admittedly that can also be platonic, but Isak’s never done that before. So yeah, Even’s not quite sure what to make of it. 

“Even tells me that you’ve been playing football longer than he has,” Liv says as she sets down the dinner plates. “What originally got you into the sport?”

“My dad,” Isak admits. “He signed me up for football when I was 5. I thought he was signing me up for tee ball. You can imagine my disappointment when I showed up for my first practice and they handed me a football.”

Even thinks the story was meant to be funny, but he and his mom both have the same look of concern on their faces. 

The thing is, Even knows a little bit about Isak’s dad. Word gets around in small towns. He knows that Isak’s father walked out on his family when Isak was 13, and he knows that Isak hasn’t talked to him since around then. He knows that Isak’s father didn’t react well to finding out about Isak’s sexuality. And he knows that there’s not one single photo of the man in Isak’s home. Isak hardly ever talks about him, so to hear him say things like that makes Even’s stomach twist in compassion. 

Liv reaches out to touch Isak’s arm. “You do like the sport, though, right?”

“Of course,” Isak nods. “Otherwise I would’ve quit when I was 13. I love it, and I love that I’m good at it. I mean, if I can get an education and a career out of this, it would be a dream come true.”

“Is it hard being openly gay, like in the football community?”

“Mom,” Even tries to interrupt, but Isak just waves him off. 

“Sometimes it is, yeah. But it’s hard being openly gay almost everywhere, sometimes. I’m very lucky that I’ve grown up in a time where being gay, or otherwise queer, is so accepted. Don’t get me wrong, we still have a long way to go, but I’m okay with where we are. After all, the whole reason we’re having this charity match is to recognize the injustice of the kid who got kicked off the team for being gay, right? This sort of thing wouldn’t have happened even 20 years ago.”

Even’s mom is hanging on to every word Isak says, leaning closer and almost completely ignoring her food. Even recognizes the starry look in her eyes. He’s pretty sure he looks at Isak like that. 

Isak turns to him and offers a small smile before shoving potatoes in his mouth, as if he hadn’t just rocked the Earth. What he’d said made so much  _ sense, _ that Even feels sort of silly for keeping it a secret for so long. Why is he hiding this when he could be shouting it from rooftops, loud and proud, and bringing light to injustices? If Isak can do it, if the other guy can do it, why can’t Even do it?

What’s stopping him? Nothing. 

“Mom,” Even blurts out, and it almost feels as though he’d cut through the silence with a very, very dull knife. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Is it something private?” Isak asks, but Even shakes his head. He needs Isak there.

“No, I… I just need to tell her something. Something I should’ve told her a long time ago, but didn’t have the courage to until…” He swallows the words,  _ until I fell in love with you,  _ because he hadn’t even considered the idea that he might be falling for Isak until just now. He’ll deal with that later. “Mom…”

Liv’s eyes are soft, and wide, and so understanding. Even can’t help but feel like she knows exactly what he’s about to say before he’s even said it, but somehow it doesn’t make him feel any better. He’s so raw it would only take a slight breeze to make his skin burn. 

“I like boys,” he finally says, and his mom doesn’t look the least bit surprised. “I like girls, too. But I like boys, and… I don’t know what the word for that is yet, if I’m pansexual or bisexual or what. I just know that I like everyone, regardless of what gender they are, and… I hope that this doesn’t change anything, that you don’t look at me any differently. I’m still the same person, I’m just more honest, I guess. And I’m sorry if this makes you sad in any way—”

“Sad?” Liv asks, but her eyes are brimming with tears and Even feels like he could throw up. “Even, my love, why would I be sad?”

“I don’t know.”

“You being the most authentic, real version of yourself could never make me sad, honey. You know that I want nothing short of a lifetime of happiness for you, right? And you can’t be truly happy until you’re 100% true to yourself. I love you just the same as I always have, every part of you. And if you’ve ever doubted that, baby, then  _ I’m  _ the one who should be apologizing.”

Even doesn’t cry, but he does move across the table to pull her into a hug. She tells him she loves him a thousand times, and he says it back one thousand times. They’ve said it before and they’ll say it again, but this time, in this moment, it means more than it probably ever has or ever will again.

Introducing a new piece of yourself to the world is the most terrifying thing. Being accepted as you are is perhaps the greatest thing. 

“Even,” Isak whispers, and Even turns to find Isak’s eyes red-rimmed. “I’m so, so proud of you.” And then they’re hugging, and Even’s finally crying, probably getting snot all over Isak’s t-shirt. 

“Thank you,” Even whispers, because he owes Isak that. 

And then they’re kissing, and Even can’t quite be sure who’s more shocked about that fact—himself, Isak, Liv—or Even’s father, who happens to walk in the door at that exact moment. 

“Well,” Anders says, causing Isak and Even to pull apart as if they’ve been shocked. “This is quite a thing to come home to, isn’t it?”

“Dad, I can explain—”

But Anders cuts him off, pulling him up and out of the chair and into a hug. All of the tension and stress in Even’s shoulders bleeds away as he melts into the embrace, and he’s 100% positive he’s never been as happy as he is in that moment. 

***

After running 3 miles and taking a short water break, the coach gathers every athlete to the center of the field. The atmosphere is crackling with nervous anticipation, wondering who’s passed the first round of tryouts and who’s going to be sent home. Even can’t help but bite his nails with worry over whether or not the coaches liked Isak better than him. 

Sure, he’d be happy for Isak. But that rivalry runs damn deep, and he knows that the anger and jealousy would take precedence—as much as he hates to admit it. 

“Okay, first, I want to thank every single one of you for coming out. Like I said when we first started, I have never been prouder of a group of teenage boys. So I want all of you to give yourself a round of applause for having the courage to stand up for what you believe in, and putting your talents to use to benefit a cause that’s so, so important.”

All of the boys start clapping, even hugging the boys standing around them. Rivalries or not, the coach was right—all of them stood up for someone that had been forced silent, and that was something to be proud of. Finally, the sport Even loves so much could be used to defend causes like this, ones he holds so near and dear. 

“I’m going to call out the names of the players we’ve decided to keep. If your name isn’t called, please don’t be discouraged. There was no lack of talent at these tryouts, boys, in fact, there was so much talent that narrowing down our picks took us hours. I have so much respect and admiration for every single one of you, including for your gameplay.”

The list of names seems endless. Even keeps not hearing his name, not hearing his name, not hearing his name. But he doesn’t hear Isak’s, either. All of the potential quarterbacks stand in anxious silence, with bated breath, waiting to see whose name is going to be called. 

“For the position of quarterback… We have a tie,” the coach announces, and all eyes land on either Isak or Even. “Valtersen and Næsheim, we were unable to decide on which one of you would be the better fit. So, we’ll have another round of tryouts next Thursday, and the final decision will be made then.”

Even turns to Isak, eyes wide. Isak, however, looks absolutely  _ thrilled.  _ “If we weren’t rivals before, we certainly are now,” Isak grins, stepping closer to Even. “This is going to be so much fun.”

“What?” Is the only thing Even manages to get out. Call him crazy, but going head to head with his rival slash fuck buddy slash potential boyfriend isn’t his ideal Thursday activity. 

“Think of the angry sex we’ll get to have after,” Isak whispers, and Even feels the tips of his ears turn red. “What? Worried you don’t have what it takes to beat me?” It sounds so much like the old Isak that it gives Even whiplash. 

“Of course not,” Even replies, straightening his back. No fucking feelings. “I’m just trying to decide if I’m going to invite you to watch me in the game.”

Isak grins, and god, Even wants to kiss him. “May the best man win, Bech Næsheim.”

“Thanks for the permission, Valtersen.”

They both turn back to the coach, arms folded across their chests and pure, unadulterated sexual tension thick in the air between them. For a moment, Even’s worried about getting through practice without popping a boner. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter. Practice gets cut short due to weather concerns and Isak and Even don’t take long to get in the backseat of Even’s car, fumbling with their basketball shorts and briefs. 

“You have no fucking idea,” Isak mumbles against Even’s lips, trying to get his shorts off, “how hot you are on the field. You’re like a Greek god, I swear it. Get these  _ off.” _

Even gets Isak’s shorts off and then his own, tossing them onto the floor and then refocusing on Isak’s body. “You’re one to talk,” he pants out, running his eyes over the length of Isak’s bare chest, all the way down to his thighs. “You could be a Michelangelo sculpture. Should put you in a museum.” Then they’re too busy kissing to talk. 

When Isak first gets his hand on Even’s dick, it’s like a religious experience. It’s the same every time. He’ll never get used to it. He arches into the touch, trying not to thrust up too much—he knows too much movement will shake the car, and it’ll be glaringly obvious to any passersby exactly what’s going on. 

“Have any lube?” Isak asks, and Even nods, leaning over to pull it out of his gym bag. “How about condoms?”

“Shit, no,” he mumbles, throwing his arm over his eyes. Goddamnit. “Do you still have one in your wallet?”

“Um… Maybe?” Isak climbs off of Even’s lap and digs through his own gym bag until he finds his wallet. Apparently he finds a condom, because he omits a triumphant, “Aha!” And then settles back onto Even’s lap. “You know, if you ever want to try bottoming…”

“Isak, Isak, shit, I really want to have this conversation, I promise I do, but if I don’t get my dick in you in the next twenty-two seconds I’ll probably die.”

Isak snorts, but complies. He slicks up his own fingers and works himself open, and then rolls the condom onto Even and adds lube. Finally, fucking finally, Isak raises up and then lowers himself down, inch by torturous fucking inch. 

The rain starts later on, while Isak is mid-orgasm, and it’s almost cinematic—which makes Even come too, like the romantic film buff he is. 

Afterwards, they clean up and settle into the front seats, trying to calm down. Even knows he’s going to drive Isak home and they probably won’t text much—unless Isak wants to play Fortnite with him or finds a funny meme—and it makes him feel empty in a way that he feels he’s getting way too used to feeling. 

But then Isak reaches over and holds Even’s hand, and keeps holding it the whole way home, and Even forgets about it. 

***

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Even whispers across the pillows, and the question makes Isak laugh. “I’m serious. I know you, and I know you have bigger goals than an NFL career. So what are they?”

It’s 4:15am and Even should’ve gone home a long time ago, but instead they’ve been laying in Isak’s bed, basking in the afterglow for way too long. Even knows he’s screwing himself over for hanging around Isak when he  _ knows  _ that Isak doesn’t feel the same as he does, but he doesn’t care. At least, not in the moment. 

“I don’t know,” Isak whispers. “When I was little, I wanted to be an astronaut. But I haven’t given it much thought since then.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re not,” Even murmurs, reaching out to play with the light hairs just above Isak’s ear. “I don’t believe you.”

Isak huffs. “Well, it’s the truth whether you believe it or not.” A small pause, where the two of them just breathe. “What about you? A professional football player? I bet you could be a first round draft pick, you’re so good. I’d be surprised if I won this tiebreaker, if I’m being honest.”

Even shrugs, twirling hairs around his index finger. Isak leans into the touch, whispers how good it feels. “I’d like to be a film director. I think life is like a film, and you can be the director of your own life.”

“Really?” Isak asks, and Even nods. “Hm. Well, I disagree.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Isak mumbles. “I just do.”

Even frowns, “You say that a lot.”

“Say what?”

“That you don’t know.”

“Oh.” But Isak doesn’t say anything else, just closes his eyes. For a moment, Even thinks he’s fallen asleep, and he allows himself to feel a bit hurt. But then Isak’s eyes open, and he forces himself to swallow those thoughts. “We should go to sleep.”

Even stays quiet for a little while, trying to process what was going on. Isak’s always been a little reserved, he supposes, but he’s never outright refused to answer questions. It wasn’t like Even was asking about his dad, or about his coming out, or about his mom’s stay in a mental illness treatment facility. He was asking about fate, and whether Isak believed in it. 

“You know,” Even whispers, “I almost quit football midway through the season.”

Isak tenses suddenly, looking up to meet Even’s eyes through the darkness. “Why?” He asks, and Even almost wants to reply with  _ I don’t know,  _ just to piss him off. But Even isn’t that petty and spiteful—no matter how tempting it is. 

“I’m sick,” he admits, and Isak’s eyebrows furrow. Even can practically see all the thoughts running through his mind, and he knows that Isak’s settled on  _ it must be cancer _ when he reaches out and cups Even’s jaw, smoothing his thumb across Even’s cheekbone. “Not physically. Mentally. I… I’m bipolar. And I’ve never told anyone that before, but a lot of people at my school know. Or, well, maybe they don’t know I’m bipolar, but they know that I’m mentally ill.”

Slowly, Isak retracts his hand, and it’s a bit ironic that the lack of touch feels so much like a slap across the face. “Bipolar?” Isak asks, and Even nods. “Can you tell me about it? I don’t know very much. Mom’s schizophrenic, so…”

And that’s the most personal information Even’s got out of him since they started whatever this was, so he decides not to get greedy. “Sometimes I get really, really high. I don’t sleep much, and I get the craziest ideas, like buying all new furniture or painting a mural in my living room at 4 o’clock in the morning. Other times, I get really low. I sleep all day, hardly get out of bed, or eat… I don’t keep up with hygiene. It can be really hard to deal with, not just for me, but for the people around me. That’s why I haven’t told anyone. After what happened at school, I took nearly a month off. And when I came back, I thought I was going to either be kicked off of the team or forced to quit. But the coach was really understanding. I felt so guilty because of it, and so embarrassed by what I’d done, that I almost quit anyway. My mom convinced me not to, in the end.”

“I’m glad you didn’t quit football,” Isak offers up, reaching out to cup Even’s jaw again. “Because then, maybe we would’ve never had this.”

_ What is this? _ The question is on the tip of Even’s tongue, but he knows it isn’t the right time to ask. Isak will just shut down, or maybe feel like he has to tell Even what he wants to hear because he now knows that Even is mentally ill. Neither of those things are particularly ideal, so he keeps the question to himself. 

Saves it for another time. 

Instead, he leans into Isak’s touch, allows himself to enjoy it for whatever it is. “It was a really hard time for me,” he murmurs. “And I think that this has helped me a lot. You accepting me, and making me feel lov– wanted.”  _ Shit, _ Even thinks,  _ another slip like that and Isak will know.  _

“Even Bech Næsheim, there hasn’t been one single second since the first day that I met you that I haven’t wanted you exactly like this.”

For a moment, Even considers the situation. They’re both clothed (mostly; only in boxers), cuddled up in Isak’s bed having a heart to heart. To an outsider, it would like like a real relationship. And if that’s what Isak means by wanting him like this, then Even doesn’t know how he ever got so lucky. 

He can’t keep the smile to himself, and leans in to press their lips together. He can feel Isak smiling into this kiss, too, pulling Even’s hips until he’s straddling Isak’s waist. The kiss quickly turns heated, and Even’s grinding down into Isak before the turn in events even registers in his brain. At this point, sexual interaction is pretty much their norm, so he isn’t surprised it turned out like that. He’s not disappointed, either. 

“Yes,” Isak breathes, getting his hand down Even’s boxers and closing his fist around Even, “exactly like this. Always wanted you like this, baby.”

Even stops, pulling back from the kiss and staring down at Isak. Isak looks back, confusion clouding his lust-filled eyes as his hand freezes on Even’s dick. 

“What? Is something wrong?”

“Like this?” Even asks, all of the wind knocked out of him and his voice already fucked out. “You always wanted me like this? Like, in your bed having sex with you?”

Isak pulls his hand away from Even’s dick, rising up on his elbows. Even pulls back, shifting so he’s sitting lower, on Isak’s thighs. “Yeah? Haven’t you? Or, at least, isn’t your sexual attraction to me something that’s been pretty dominant in your mind for the last couple of months?”

Isak meant sex. Isak never wanted  _ him, _ not really. He never wanted to love him. He just wanted to fuck him, to get his fucking dick wet—he just wanted Even to let him do it. 

The thought makes his stomach turn, and he has to climb off of Isak’s lap and then off of his bed altogether, before Isak sees the tears in his eyes. 

“Even?”

“I think I should go home,” Even mumbles, trying to pull on his jeans. He’s still rock fucking hard despite his heartbreak, damn him, so it’s a bit more difficult than it otherwise would be. 

Isak sits up, pulling the blankets around his waist and trying to catch Even’s eyes. Even refuses to look at him. “Even, what just happened?” He asks, and Even doesn’t respond. “Talk to me. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what happened. Did I hurt you, make you uncomfortable?” Silence. “Did you not want to have sex? I’m sorry if I pushed a boundary or something, if you just wanted to make out that’s perfectly okay, we don’t even have to do that if—”

“Isak, I’m going home.”

Apparently the wobble in his voice gives him away, because in a second, Isak is standing next to him, trying to hold him. “Even, please tell me what’s going on. I’m so confused, I didn’t mean to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, well, you did,” Even snaps. “Hurt me, that is. Look, just… I need to go home.”

“It’s almost five in the morning.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

“Oh, you do?” Even laughs, but there’s no humor in it. He shoves his phone and wallet in his back pocket and leaves the room, storming down the hall. Isak follows quickly. “Isak, just leave me alone. I want to be alone.”

“No,” Isak pleads, “not until you tell me what happened. Please, Even, let me fix it. Please.”

Even gets to the door and pulls it open within the same second that his first tears start falling. He curses himself; crying in front of a boy is something he swore he’d never do. Especially not in front of Isak. 

“I just need to go home and go to sleep, okay?” He mumbles, trying to regain composure. “I just want to be alone. Can you please let me be alone? Can I please just have some fucking  _ space?” _

Isak’s hands fall from where they’d been gripping on Even’s arm, allowing Even to finally step across the threshold. Even manages to make it halfway to his car before he hears Isak’s front door creak open again, and Isak’s voice calls out to him across the night. 

“Can I call you tomorrow?” A small pause, brimmed with so many emotions that Even feels it fill him up from top to toe. “Please?”

Even wipes his eyes, licks his lips. “No,” he calls back, fighting his voice breaks. “Just… I’ll call you, okay? When I’m ready.” And he climbs in the car and goes, without looking back. 

***

Mutta kicks his legs out on Even’s couch, facing Even and studying him like a science project. Even swears that Mutta’s eyes haven’t left Even since he arrived an hour ago. Even tries to ignore it, sifting through different movies and trying to decide which one to watch—he’s seen them all at least 10 times and could probably recite most, if not all, of them. 

“So… You’re bi,” Mutta says, and Even shrugs, then shakes his head. “But you like boys  _ and _ girls.”

“I think I prefer the label pansexual.”

Mutta nods. “Okay. Pansexual.”

“Yeah.” Even studies the cover of  _ Top Gun _ for a moment, then dares to glance up at Mutta. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, man, of course it’s okay. I’m just a bit surprised,” he explains, and Even nods. He knew some people might be. Others wouldn’t be surprised, like Mikael, who’d insisted he’d known all along and then thanked Even for telling him ( _ finally, _ Mikael had joked). “Is that why you were out for a month?”

Even shakes his head. “No. That was something else. Something I’ll tell you about, eventually… Just maybe not right now.” He holds up the movie  _ Romeo + Juliet, _ prompting Mutta to roll his eyes. Even should’ve known. He puts that one down and keeps going through the movies. 

“No rush. You don’t have to tell me anything until you’re ready. And if you’re never ready, that’s okay too.”

“Thanks, Mutta.”

“Of course.” He puts his legs back down, scoots closer to Even. “Do you have  _ Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory?  _ The one with Gene Wilder?”

“Oh, so you’re in the mood for scary movies.”

Mutta scoffs, “Scary? Willy Wonka?”

“Dude, have you seen the boat scene?”

“Yeah, I have. I’m just not an eight year old that’s still scared by flashing lights and creepy music.”

Even rolls his eyes, digging through his admittedly large movie collection. He knows they have the Gene Wilder version of Willy Wonka somewhere, because Even used to watch it all the time when he was younger. It’s probably why many of his nightmares featured a boat, ballooning into a blueberry, and being attacked by Oompa Loompas.  

His nightmares also featured a Cheshire Cat and a pair of creepy, singing twins—but he can blame his older sister and her  _ Alice In Wonderland  _ phase for that one. 

He finally finds the film in the bottom of a container, and by some miracle, finds that the DVD is still in the case. He pops it into the DVD player and then sits back on the couch, handing Mutta another beer. Even drinks water. 

“So,” Mutta says, as the opening credits start, “is there a boy in the picture? One that may have caused this personal revelation?”

Even feels himself blush. “Not one that  _ caused _ it, no. I’ve known for a while.” He glances over at Mutta, and finds his friend smiling. “But there may be a boy, yes.”

“Is it Isak?”

“Are we that obvious?”

“No,” Mutta grins, “but maybe that’s why everyone knows.” He puts his beer down on the coffee table and places his hand on Even’s knee. “Is he treating you well? I’ll kick his ass if he’s not.”

“You don’t have to do that. We’re not together. Not really.”

“Explain.”

Even looks away, blushing harder. “We had a friends with benefits thing going on for a while. I kind of just wrote it off as a sexual tension thing that came from our rivalry. But then all these repressed feelings I had came up, and got stronger, and he didn’t reciprocate them. So I just had enough, and I walked out on him right before we were about to have sex. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

“When was this?” Mutta asks. “Like, last night?”

“Not quite. It was about a week ago.”

“A  _ week? _ You’ve been avoiding him for a week? What’s changed your mind now?”

“The tiebreaker is tomorrow,” Even explains. “The one that decides whether or not I get to be on the team. Isak and I going head to head. I’m not sure I can play my hardest with all of this in my head, and I’m not sure he can either.”

Mutta blinks. “So talk to him.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why isn’t it?” Mutta asks, and Even purses his lips. “It’s exactly that simple. Just call him and tell him you need to talk and work it out. Jesus Christ, man, I can’t believe you’ve been sitting on this for a  _ week. _ I bet he’s freaking the fuck out.”

Even laughs, but there’s no amusement in the sound. “Why would he care? Like I said, he doesn’t reciprocate. He doesn’t feel the same as I do about him.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No.”

“Did you give him the chance to?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should,” Mutta suggests. “Clear the air once and for all. Then you’ll know for sure, and he’ll know for sure. And then you can move on and know that nothing went unsaid.”

“I don’t know if I can handle rejection, Mutta.”

“You can,” Mutta insists, and scoots closer still. Even feels him squeeze his knee harder. “Because you’ll know. It’s better to know than to always wonder. Don’t you think?”

“I think that you’re acting really wise and it’s kind of creeping me the fuck out.”

Mutta laughs. “If you’re already creeped out, I have no idea how you’ll survive the boat scene.”

Even will survive the boat scene. He’s survived so much in his life so far, he can survive that. And maybe he can survive a phone call to Isak, too.

***

6:01pm

“Isak? It’s me, Even. As I’m sure you know, because we have caller ID. Sorry, I’m nervous. Anyway, I’m just calling to let you know that… Well, to let you know that I want to talk to you. It’s kind of important. Please call me back.”

***

9:45pm

“It’s me again. Look, I know what happened last week was crazy, and I probably upset you, and I’m sorry. There’s just a lot going on in my mind right now and I needed time to think. I shouldn’t have avoided you, though. I should’ve told you what was going on, I should’ve answered your calls and texts. Please call me back, I can explain everything. Please.”

***

11:52pm

“You can’t ignore me forever. Call me.”

***

2:12am

“You know what? Fuck you. I’ve been wanting to say that for the last week and it feels so good to get that out.  _ Fuck you,  _ Isak. I’m sitting here in my room, pacing across the carpet at damn near 3am, all because you won’t call me the fuck back. I’m so fucking pissed at you, I swear, I’m going to kick your ass in tryouts tomorrow just to prove to you that I can. Don’t fucking call me.”

***

4:37am

“Isak… It’s me again. I know your phone is off because I went straight to voicemail this time. I know you won’t answer my calls and I’m out of time to try, so I’m just going to say everything now. Whether you listen to this message or not is your choice, but I hope that you do. And I hope that you call me. Please,  _ please _ call me. 

“I first realized that I liked boys when I was 12. I’d had crushes before then, but I’d always assumed they were platonic. That it was normal for me to feel that way about boys, that other boys felt that way, too. I didn’t know I was different until I was 12 and we watched a movie where two men kissed and all my classmates laughed. I knew I was different because I saw those two men kissing and I thought of how that could be me, one day. So I kept it to myself and I dated girls. I knew I liked girls, too, so I figured I could just go my whole life dating girls and no one would ever have to know. I’d never have to tell anyone that I wanted to kiss boys, and no one would ever laugh at me. 

“I kissed a boy for the first time when I was 15. It was behind a Tropical Smoothie and he tasted like strawberries. We broke up two months after we started dating, but that relationship is what solidified it to me—I liked boys. How is it that I’ve known for so long, but I never told anyone until you? That I never considered the possibility of having sex with a boy until you? That I never allowed myself to consider loving a boy until you?

“You shouldn’t have that power over me, because you didn’t ask for it—but you do. I’ve admired you ever since you came out, and I think that’s why I hated you so much. Because you could be out and proud, and I felt like I couldn’t. You had everything I wanted, you lived the life I was so desperate to live, and I hated you for it. I loathed you, I despised every step you took, and every time I saw that stupid rainbow sticker on your helmet… I channeled that anger into football for as long as I could. And then we got to talking at conditioning, and we got close, and the anger transformed into something new. Something I didn’t know how to handle. 

“So we had sex. Lots of sex. And that was my outlet, that was how I got out that frustration and anger at you. And it worked, and the anger faded, and I thought… Maybe we could be friends. But I don’t want to be friends, Isak. When the anger faded, I was left with love, and God… If I thought I didn’t know how to handle anger, I sure as hell don’t know how to handle love. What am I supposed to do with all this love in my heart for someone who doesn’t want it? I didn’t know where to keep all of this love in me, it was filling me up and I felt like I could burst from it, sometimes. And then I did. 

“I did burst. Because you said you always wanted me, and for a moment, I let myself hope. And then I realized you meant sex, and the balloon was pinpricked, and my love came out in the only way it knew how—in anger. I took that out on you, and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. 

“I just needed time to think. I needed time to think about whether I was going to be able to live my life with you as a friend, someone untouchable. I didn’t know if it was going to eat me alive. So many things have tried to do that, Isak, so many things have tried to drink all of my energy right out of me like maple sap and I didn’t know how much more I had left to give. 

“I’ve come to the realization that I want to be in your life, in whatever way you’ll have me. I understand if you want me in it strictly as a football rival. I understand if you never want to see me again. I understand if you listen to this voicemail, delete it, and never speak to me again. I understand if you don’t call me back. 

“Please call me back.”

***

Even shows up to tryouts early, trying to catch a glimpse of Isak’s car in the lot; but it’s nowhere to be found. Nerves grip his stomach with an iron fist, threatening to make him lose the breakfast his mom had insisted on preparing for him that morning. Normally he isn’t much of a breakfast eater, but it was a ‘big day’, so he’d given in to his mom’s insistence. 

Mikael is in the locker room when Even walks in, and he smiles and runs over, pulling Even into a hug. “Today’s the day, man! You get to kick his ass once and for all.” He claps Even on the back, and Even’s heart aches. 

“Hopefully,” Even laughs awkwardly. “I really want this position.”

“You’ll get it. Trust me.” His smile changes then, to something softer, gentler. “How are you two, by the way? Have you talked to him?”

“No. But it’s okay. I left him a voicemail, so.”

Mikael claps his back again. “He’ll come around, bro. I promise. In the meantime, let’s get your head in the game. Suit up and I’ll meet you out there for warm ups.”

Even changes slowly, hoping he’ll be able to catch Isak walking into the locker room. Instead, he’s greeted with Mutta, who asks the same questions Mikael did. And then the rest of the team. The team that Even, for now, can only hope to be a part of. 

This might be his last time in the locker room, and he needs to focus on that instead of his love life. 

So he joins Mikael for warm ups. He pushes all of the drama to the back of his mind and focuses on the burn in his muscles, on the strategies in his mind. His mind is never clearer than when he’s on the football field, and not even Isak Valtersen can change that. 

About 30 minutes later, the coach comes onto the field, clipboard in hand. For the first time since his cleats touched the grass, Even lets himself look around the group to find Isak. 

Isak isn’t there. 

“Okay, gentlemen, there’s been a change of plans,” the coach announces, stepping in front of the formation. “Today, we’d scheduled a tiebreaker for Valtersen and Næsheim, followed by three hours of practice with the official team. However, due to unforeseen circumstances, Valtersen has dropped out. By default, that makes Næsheim our quarterback. Don’t get me wrong, he’s an amazing player and we’re very, very fortunate to have him on our team. Næsheim, you’ve worked damn hard, and you earned this spot. So congratulations. Now, since we don’t have to take up the extra time with any tryouts, practice will be an hour and a half shorter today. Get to your laps, and then meet back here.” The coach blows the whistle, and Even knows he should start jogging, but he’s frozen in place. 

_ Valtersen has dropped out. _

Isak  _ quit. _ He quit, and it’s all Even’s fucking fault. 

“What do you mean Isak quit?” Even asks, and the coach looks up like he hadn’t realized Even was still standing there. “When did he quit?”

“He came by this morning, told us he had some family issues that got in the way of his performance.” The coach tucks his clipboard under his arm, glancing Even over. “Aren’t you glad you got the spot, Næsheim?”

“Of course I am. But I didn’t want to win it like this.”

“It’s a charity game, Næsheim, not the Super Bowl. It’s fine.”

“But it’s not,” Even snaps, his eyes filling with tears. He cries too much nowadays. “It’s not fine. Because he was supposed to be here and try out. He was supposed to be here so I could win, once and for all. Do you know—”

“Even, calm down.”

“No! No, you don’t understand. You don’t know how fucking  _ maddening _ it is to be rivals with him. The two best quarterbacks in the state, right?! Always living in his fucking shadow. He’s a cocky little asshole who watched me make short throws like I’ve never thrown a football before.” He’s properly angry now, breath coming in short gasps. “He thinks he’s  _ better _ than me. He was supposed to be here so I could kick his ass, right here in front of God and everybody, so where is he?! Not only is he a cocky bastard, but he’s a coward, too?!”

There’s hands on his shoulders, and it doesn’t register who it is until he hears Mikael whispering for him to come to the locker room. Even knows he’ll be embarrassed later, but he’s not worried about it now. He wants to yell more, to make a bigger scene. But the coach and Mikael are leading him to the locker room, so Even settles for letting the tears fall. 

***

For the next month and two weeks, Even throws himself into football. He’s practicing 7 days a week, whether he’s with his team or alone on the field. Mikael helps, and so does Mutta, but Even dedicates a lot of alone time. He’s only ever home to eat, now, and Even’s mother doesn’t like it very much. 

“What happened to Isak?” She’d asked one night, when she’d managed to catch Even on his quick walk from the shower to his room. “You two seemed really into each other, and I haven’t heard about him in ages. Did something happen?”

Even had floundered around for excuses for a solid 32 seconds before deciding to say, “Things just didn’t work out.” And he’d left it like that, and gone to his room without another word. His mom hadn’t asked again since. 

So, Even spends his time elsewhere. He avoids the questions and doesn’t let himself think about the answers. He just plays football, and he thinks about football, and he goes to Mikael’s and gets drunk against better judgment, and hopes his mom doesn’t smell the liquor before he gets a chance to shower. 

Then today happened, and Even feels like he’s back on his downward spiral. 

He’d been practicing drills, running through the ladder and doing tire flips, and he’d caught a glimpse of blond hair in the stands. He’d followed that speck of gold with a pounding heart, only to find it wasn’t Isak, just some random guy with the same stature and hair color. His heart hadn’t left his throat since—even now, laying in his bed, he’s thinking about Isak. Something he’d managed to avoid. 

_ “Sometimes I think we were made for each other,” Isak had whispered. _

_ “Me too,” Even had agreed. “I think I’m okay with that.” _

_ “I’m more than okay with it. Even, I could be like this forever.” _

_ “Forever’s a long time.” _

_ Isak nodded. “And yet, not nearly long enough.” _

Another one of those late night conversations that, in retrospect, mean next to nothing. Just empty words, now. Even doesn’t feel angry about it anymore. Instead, it just rises in his throat like bad acid reflux, and he wishes there was some type of tablet he could take to make feelings go away. Instead he just tiptoes to his bathroom to take some TUMs. 

When he closes the medicine cabinet, he’s faced with himself in the mirror. It looks exactly like him. Still tired, still pale as fuck, hair still up how it always is. And yet it feels like an out of body experience, like he’s watching a film. 

“Even!” His mom calls, and Even drops his forehead until it hits the medicine cabinet. “Come down here please!”

“I’m not hungry!” He calls back. 

“It’s not dinner!”

Even groans, picking himself up and forcing himself to walk down the hall to his mother’s room, where she’s sat on the bed with her laptop in front of her. Even can tell by the reflection of her glasses that she’s looking at something on Facebook. 

“Hey, come sit,” she encourages, and Even obliges. “I was scrolling through Facebook, right, and there’s a group for the mothers of the football players at your school. Well, someone in that group created another group for the mothers of the players on this charity team. Apparently it was made before Isak dropped out, because him and his mother both are still in it, and—”

“Mom, I don’t want to know any Facebook drama.”

She stares at him over her frames. “Trust me on this one, okay? Let me finish. Now,” she continues, turning back to her laptop, “Isak’s mom, Marianne, posted in the group today. I thought it was passive aggressive, like she thought Isak was pressured into quitting. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I think it might be a message to you.” She turns the laptop towards Even so he can read the words on the screen.

 

**Marianne Valtersen**

_ So excited for the charity game next week! I know first hand just how hard these boys work, and I can’t wait to cheer them on. My son and I both wish nothing but the best for the team, and its players. We’re both hoping for a miracle <3 _

 

“Why would that be a message for me?” Even asks, turning the laptop back. “Unless she’s implying that I suck at football and will need a miracle to help my team win… I don’t see it.”

“A miracle? Even, can’t you see? She didn’t have to bring Isak up, but she did. She didn’t have to tell everyone that they’re going, but she did. And she did it in a group, not on her wall. She wanted us to know they’re going.”

Even rolls his eyes. “Probably just to put pressure on me so I get nervous and mess up.”

“You know, it costs nothing to be an optimist.”

“Being a pessimist is better,” Even replies, making his way out of the room, “I’m always either right, or pleasantly surprised.”

Liv calls, “Not with that attitude!” And Even smiles, before heading back up the stairs. 

He thinks about the Facebook post a lot more than he’d like to admit. 

***

When game day rolls around, Even tries his best not to look for Isak. He knows it’ll only mess up his gameplay. Instead, he focuses on the moment, on the here and now, and helping his team win. He needs to prove that he deserves his spot, that  _ he’s  _ the best quarterback in the state, and that every college scout in the audience is there for good reason. He needs to prove himself. 

He puts a pansexual pride sticker on the back of his helmet for good luck. 

“Alright, guys, this is it,” the coach calls out, stepping onto a bench to call attention. “It’s been a long road to get here, and all of you have worked incredibly hard. I’ve said it from the beginning: I am immensely proud of every single one of you, and no matter what happens tonight, I will still be proud of you. Tonight isn’t about winning or losing, it’s about raising awareness to an issue that needs to be resolved—one that shouldn’t exist. And you all should be proud of yourselves for having the courage to do this. So get out there and kick ass, but don’t forget why you’re here.”

The feeling of running out onto a field to the sound of an audience cheering you on is an incomparable feeling. It’s one of Even’s favorite feelings—the adrenaline rush mixed with the stroke of his ego. Tonight is that feeling doubled, because he’s here, and he’s out, and he’s proud, and he’s making a difference in his community. He never thought he’d be able to say that and be proud of it.

The first quarter, no one scores. The other team (The Wolves), composed of people from various other schools, is almost at the exact same level of skill as Even’s team—The Paladins. Named by the coach, after his alma mater. 

In the second quarter, the Paladins score their first touchdown. There’s no band to play their nonexistent fight song, but it doesn’t matter in the moment. They don’t need the hype, not when the score doesn’t  _ really _ matter, and not when the crowd’s cheers are more than enough. 

_ Remember why you’re here. _

So, third quarter, Even busts his ass. He aids in as many touchdowns as possible, and tries not to bite his lip too hard when watching defense try to prevent the Wolves from scoring any. By the midway point of the fourth quarter, the score is 28-27, with the Wolves leading, and Even is  _ desperate.  _ He knows why he’s here, and that’s why he has to win. 

They run touchdown play after touchdown play, trying to get in one more touchdown before the clock runs out. But things keep getting in the way, and before he knows it, they’re down past the 50 yard line, too deep in enemy territory. There’s 8 seconds on the clock, and the coach wants to try a kick, but Even knows better. 

So he calls for the play. The ball is snapped, Even catches it, and the 8 seconds slows down. He steps back, foot hitting the 40 yard line dead on as he stares down the field, into the chaos. Players are running around like chickens with their heads caught off, so insane that Even almost misses Mutta running for the end zone. 

The end zone is 60 yards away. Mutta is 60 yards away. Briefly, Even considers making a run for it, hoping that he can get close enough to Mutta to make a safer pass. But the clock is on 5 seconds now, and Even knows there’s no time. 

Mutta crosses the end zone, and turns to face Even. Even lifts his arm, prepares himself for the throw. Mutta, clearly anticipating the action, braces himself to make the catch. It’s now or never. 

Isak’s voice rings out in his head. 

_ “Oh, my god. You can’t throw far enough, Næsheim? Maybe I should come over there and teach you how.” _

Even takes a deep breath. There’s 4 seconds.

_ “I’m glad you didn’t quit football. Because then, maybe we would’ve never had this.” _

The feeling of the football releasing from his hand is simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. Even had done nothing but throw short on simple 25 yard passes in conditioning, why would he be able to throw 60 yards now? Hail Mary plays aren’t exactly known to work out. 

The ball reaches Mutta with 2 seconds left. There’s a flurry of football players surrounding him, and for a second, Even thinks he’s fumbled. For one earth shattering moment, Even thinks they’ve lost.

But then the crowd goes insane, and Even watches the scoreboard flicker to 28-33. They’ve won. Even’s Hail Mary pass won the game for them. 

Before he knows it, he’s being lifted up by teammates, and he can see Mutta being carried, too. Fans storm the field, and Even can finally look around, looking for Isak. 

He hears him before he sees him. 

“Even!” He hears, and he immediately starts wiggling out of his teammates’ hold. The second his feet hit the ground, he spins, and finds Isak running at him. Even takes his helmet off and drops it mere seconds before Isak gets close enough to launch himself at Even. 

It’s the tightest hug Even’s ever received, like Isak is scared he might disappear if he were to let go. Even knows it can’t be pleasant with how sweaty he is, and Even’s a bit out of breath, but he hugs Isak back anyway. After a month without his touch, he figures it’s okay to be a bit greedy. 

“How the  _ fuck _ did you do that?!” Isak is raving, his lips right next to Even’s ear. “Jesus fuck, I thought you were crazy, trying to throw that far. How did you manage that? What the hell just happened? I’m so fucking proud of you, I love you so much.”

Before Even can process what Isak had just said, Isak is pulling back and slamming their lips together. If Even couldn’t breathe before, he definitely can’t now. 

“You’re such a dumbass,” Isak pants, when he’s pulled back. His hands cup Even’s cheeks. “You’re so fucking stupid, you could’ve  _ lost.  _ I can’t believe you.”

And then they’re kissing again. And again, and again, and again. Until someone clears their throat and Isak pulls back, his cheeks tinted red with embarrassment. “Oh, uh, right.” He steps back, and Even is faced with a man he never really expected to see. “Even, this is my dad. He was really excited when I asked if he’d like to come see my boyfriend play in a charity match.”

Isak’s dad nods, seeming a bit embarrassed himself. “Yes, well, if any quarterback beat out my son for a position, he must be damn good. And you were. Congratulations.”

“Thank you so much,” Even grins. He doesn’t bother bringing up the fact that Isak dropped out, because he’s too caught up thinking about the fact that Isak just called him his  _ boyfriend. _

“I’m actually here on behalf of Vanderbilt University,” Isak’s dad is saying, so Even forced himself to listen.  _ Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend.  _ “I have to say, I was thoroughly impressed with what I saw tonight. I think we should talk a little bit more over dinner sometime, maybe discuss what scholarships might be available to you…”

Even’s 99% sure his jaw hits the floor. He turns to look at Isak, who’s practically beaming with pride. Even might cry. “Thank you so, so much for this opportunity,” Even gushes, turning back to Isak’s dad. “You have no idea how much this means to me. I would love to have dinner sometime.”

“That’s great. Here’s my card.” He hands one over, and Even clutches it like a lifeline. “Be sure to call. I look forward to hearing from you.” He smiles once, pats Isak’s shoulder, then walks away. Even can hardly contain his excitement.

He turns around, picking Isak up and twirling him around, pressing their lips together. “I love you so fucking much,” he mumbles, and Isak giggles into the kiss. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Isak murmurs, when they finally pull back. “You earned that. You did that. I’m so proud of you.” Even leans down to kiss him again, but this time, Isak stops him with a finger to the lips. “But you smell like sweat and turf grass, and it’s kind of gross. Let’s go.”

Even laughs, “Of course, baby.” He picks up his helmet, which Isak immediately offers to carry. Even doesn’t miss the look of pride that crosses Isak’s face when he notices the pansexual pride flag sticker. 

“So, I’m kind of pissed that my dad asked you to dinner before I did, but like…it’s fine, I guess.” He reaches to take Even’s hand. “I’ll ask anyway. Would you maybe want to go on a proper dinner date with me? Like, as a boyfriend, and not just a fuck buddy?”

Even pretends to consider it. “Hmm… That depends. Can we fuck after?”

“Oh, my god.” Isak rolls his eyes, ripping his hand out of Even’s before immediately slotting them back together again. “I was trying to be romantic, you douchebag. But since you asked, yes. Of course we’re going to fuck after, who the hell do you think I am? I spent months fucking you and then went cold turkey for a month, I’m horny.”

“So romantic.”

“The romanticest.”

“Most romantic,” Even corrects, and Isak just gives him a death glare as if to say of course he knows that. “But romance isn’t needed. I already fell in love with you.”

Isak smiles a bit. “I know. I did, too. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it, and to tell you. I know I hurt you pretty badly.” He kisses the back of Even’s hand, which of course makes Even’s heart melt. 

“I forgave you already,” Even reassured him. “I love you, you know.”

“I love you, too, you punk. Now go shower up, so we can go eat dinner at some fancy restaurant somewhere and then fuck in the bathroom.”

Even salutes him, taking his helmet back as they approach the locker room door. “Be right back, number two.”

“Number two?!”

“You know,” Even grins, “number two ranked quarterback in the state.”

“Oh, you little fucking—!”

Even laughs as Isak chases him into the locker room, and then glances at Mikael and Mutta as soon as the door slams shut. They both smile at him, so full of pride and love and joy. Even smiles right back at them. He couldn’t have done this without his friends. 

Next, he’ll tell them about why he almost quit football. 

Not now. Right now, he has a hot boy waiting on him. 

But soon. Soon, he’ll tell them.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [@medicineontour](http://medicineontour.tumblr.com/)


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